At 17, I planned out my entire life until
age 30: a college degree and marriage by 22 followed by two children (girl then
boy), a master’s degree and a fulfilling professional career by 30. My plans
didn’t go beyond that, so apparently I was going to drop dead or go insane after
that crazy journey.

This plan made perfect sense in my naïve
mind. I was already engaged (feel free to roll your eyes, I always do when I think
of it) and had begun freshman year of college. Fortunately, it didn’t pan out. Instead
college opened my small-town girl eyes. I broke off my engagement, moved in
with another boy who held no future for me, suffered a heartbreaking breakup
and dated a lot. At the still tender age of 22, I met the man I would marry.

I was only slightly behind schedule; I
could easily still fulfill my visions of baking cookies with my adorable blonde
daughter and son! Except that my future mate wasn’t interested in children.
Many discussions and four years later, we entered marriage on the same page,
agreeing to one child. I was OK with the compromise, but I won’t lie, I felt
confident he would eventually want a second.

Seven years and many adventures later,
we finally plunged into parenthood. She was more than my 17-year-old self could have
dreamed of: more beautiful, more loving, more energetic and more work. One felt good,
most days.

Yet every year after my daughter’s
birth, my biological clock would clang with wild abandon as our autumn birthdays
approached. For two months, I would question our young decision to stick to a
family of three. Even though my beautiful brown-haired girl nearly consumed me, looming birthdays made me yearn for the little blond boy I would never meet. A
birth control malfunction sounded like an inconvenient yet ultimately happy
miracle.

My personal reproduction deadline
inched from age 35 to 36 to 38 and then to a vague “we could still change our
minds if we want.” Then last summer, my husband and I had a random conversation
about the increasing risks of giving birth at my age. I know plenty of women
who have had healthy children after 40, but given our daughter’s rough start, the thought of any increased
risks terrified us.

This conversation was soon followed by
one in which I explained to my daughter yet again the cons of having a sister
and the pros of being an only child. For the first time, I believed wholeheartedly
what I was saying. More importantly, I realized that if I got pregnant that
night, I would have a five-year-old and a newborn as I approached 40. That
scenario didn’t sound like fulfillment of my teenage dream; it sounded like a
nightmare.

So last week we permanently committed
to a family of three. I thought I might feel sadness, but I don’t. My teenage
plans once seemed big and bold, but the life that has unfolded for me since is so
much richer than the one I concocted in my head. It’s also brought me far more
happiness than my adolescent imagination could have ever dreamed.

That little boy seemed real in my young
dreams, but now he seems as fantastical as finding a rainbow-colored unicorn. Both have become outgrown childhood fantasies. Yet, some childhood things stick. I realized yesterday that, ironically, three has always been my favorite number and I suspect it always
will be.

Comments

so hope to be like you when I grow up :) I still have not made peace with having just 2 boys while I never thought I would ever want kids!!!

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About me

I’m a 40-year-old woman with a darling young daughter, a long-term marriage and an established career. To onlookers, I have it all together. But in rare moments when I'm solo in the car and a throwback song comes on the radio, I sometimes have an overwhelming urge to drink myself silly, dance my ass off and make-out with strangers.
Read more...I’m not that young or foolish any more, but I also don’t feel old (despite increasing wrinkles). I am caught somewhere between young and old and I’m not the only one. This blog is for those of us who are still dancing queens yet, rather than yearning for the good old days, are wise enough to recognize that this crazy, in-between, complex time in our lives is life’s sweet spot.
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